


all that i have to lose

by UnrememberedSkies



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23512939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnrememberedSkies/pseuds/UnrememberedSkies
Summary: Diego does some good, and Klaus pays the price.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691854
Comments: 18
Kudos: 140





	all that i have to lose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarkywoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarkywoman/gifts).



> So, months after it was requested, here is my first completed Bad Things Bingo fic for the prompt 'Kliego: Revenge by Proxy'. Title is from 'Eight' by Sleeping at Last. As usual, you can find me on my [Tumblr.](https://unrememberedskies.tumblr.com/)

It was getting light outside as Diego emerged from the club’s basement, cleaning his knife on his pants. He closed his eyes for a few moments, breathing in the cool morning air. It was pleasant after spending so much time in that stuffy, smoky room. Diego felt a smile twitch on his mouth and wondered if this was people felt after hitting a homerun, or getting a promotion.

He’d never have any of that normal people stuff, but it was nights like these that made him proud of what he did. He’d taken a monster off the streets today, stopped him from hurting any more families. It felt good.

He felt like he should celebrate, but he wasn’t sure how. Mostly, he wanted to tell someone about it, but he was certain Eudora wouldn’t be as thrilled about him delivering his own brand of justice as much as he was. She could be a hell of a stickler for the rules sometimes.

In the end, he decided to go back to the gym and do a few rounds on the punching bag, before the gym officially opened. It wasn’t all that different from what he normally did after a night’s work, but at least it gave him an outlet for the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

The streets were quiet at this hour, and Diego took his time on the drive back, singing along to the radio. He was tapping out a drum solo on his steering wheel when he spotted a familiar figure meandering along the sidewalk.

Diego grinned and pulled up alongside him. “Hey darlin’, goin’ my way?”

He watched Klaus’s shoulders tense as he whirled round, an angry retort on his lips. His face softened when his gaze landed on Diego, a sweet smile on his lips. “Oh, it’s you,” he said. “I don’t have to kick your ass, then.”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Diego replied. “Want some breakfast?”

Klaus pretended to consider. “You paying?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” Klaus shrugged and went around the front of the car, climbing into the passenger seat gracelessly. He reeked of booze; Diego cracked the window.

He drove them to a twenty-four-hour diner a couple of blocks over. The only other customers were a pair of truckers hunched sleepily over their coffees and pastries. A bored-looking waitress took their order with as little grace as possible before disappearing into the kitchen.

“You’re in a good mood,” Klaus remarked, fiddling with the sugar packets.

“I had a good night,” Diego said, leaning back in the seat and folding his arms, smirk fixed on his face.

Klaus looked up, face disbelieving. “What, you get laid?” His eyes widened in horror. “Oh God, this isn’t a post-coital breakfast, is it? Come on, Diego, I don’t want to be a part of that.”

Diego laughed, and Klaus looked even more alarmed. He supposed Klaus wasn’t used to seeing him in such a good mood. “I didn’t get laid.” He nudged Klaus’s foot with his. “And I thought you liked post-coital breakfasts.”

“Yeah, when I’m part of the coital bit,” Klaus said, as the waitress came over with their eggs and bacon. He smiled sunnily up at her before digging in like a ravenous man. “I don’t want to be the one you have breakfast with after having all the fun with some other floozy.”

“Don’t worry, you’re the only floozy for me,” Diego said, squirting ketchup onto his plate.

“Damn right,” Klaus said, with his mouth full. Diego watched him for a few moments, inelegant as he was in his eating. He wondered when Klaus had last had a good meal. Or even a bad one.

Diego poked at his own rapidly cooling breakfast with his fork. “So, I actually stopped one of the city’s most dangerous loan sharks,” he said, not able to hold it in any longer.

“Ohhh,” said Klaus in realisation. “So it’s the _Diego_ version of a good night. That’s a relief.” Diego frowned at him, and Klaus grinned with his mouth full before swallowing down his food. He tilted his head and his smiled softened. “Sounds like you did some good.”

“Feels like I did,” Diego said, strangely breathless at the thought that it was true. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he’d made the world a bit better than when he had started. “He was a Grade A asshole,” he continued. “Kidnap, assault… you name it, he did it.”

“Yeah, I know the type,” Klaus said with a laugh, pushing his eggs around the plate with the edge of his fork.

Diego watched him, the way his eyelashes fluttered, and his tongue darted out to lick salt off his lips. His hands, restless and pale, shook every so slightly, almost unnoticeable if you weren’t looking closely. But Diego looked closely, he always did, with Klaus.

“Come back with me,” he said, before his brain could stop him.

Klaus froze, before he lifted his head slowly, his smile already sad and placatory. “We both know that’s a bad idea.”

Diego could still feel that adrenaline, urging him to take a chance. “When’s that ever stopped us?”

Klaus laughed. He put down his fork and dabbed at his face with the paper napkin. When he could no longer hide behind it, he bit his lip, looking up at Diego with beseeching eyes. His pupils were pinpricks. “I’ll hurt you,” he said, so quietly Diego had to strain to hear. “I always do.”

 _I don’t care_ , Diego thought desperately, but couldn’t get his mouth to utter the words.

At his silence, Klaus smiled. “Thank you for breakfast,” he said, standing. “And thank you for making our city a safer place, Batman.”

Diego looked up just as Klaus put gentle hand on his cheek. His palm was clammy, but Diego leaned into it all the same. Klaus leaned in and kissed him softly on the other cheek, close to the corner of his mouth. Diego turned his head a little, his lips just brushing Klaus’s before Klaus pulled away.

“See you around, Diego,” he said, before shoving his hands in his deep coat pockets and wandering out of the diner. Diego watched him until he disappeared into the grey light of the morning, a horrible feeling of regret and a missed opportunity settling in his stomach.

The ghost of Klaus’s kiss tingled on his lips.

* * *

He went back to the boiler room and slept until midday. By the time he made his way upstairs to train, the gym was already buzzing with people. He headed over to the weights, stretching as he walked, ready to get going straight away.

He was only ten minutes into his routine when Al called him over. “Phone call for you,” he said with a dismissive wave.

Frowning, Diego put the receiver to his ear. “Hello?”

“Diego, what did you do?”

He relaxed, slipping into shit-eating grin, even though she couldn’t see it. “Eudora, nice to hear from you. How are things going?”

“Don’t start with me,” she hissed, “and don’t call me that.”

“Hey, you rang me,” Diego said, leaning against the counter. “I’m not starting anything.”

“Listen, you can’t go around throwing knives at loan sharks like Wyatt, okay? You can’t.”

Diego rolled his eyes, twisting the wire around his fingers. “Yeah well, I can, and I did. I took a scumbag off the streets. You’re welcome.”

He could practically hear Patch’s silent scream of frustration. He grinned into the phone. “Do you even realise what you’ve done? You’ve basically put a massive target on your back.”

“Oh, so you’re _concerned_. Eudora, I didn’t know you still cared.”

“I’ll care when we pull your bloody corpse out of the river,” she said. Her tone was angry but Diego thought he detected an undercurrent of fear.

He straightened up, pressed the phone closer to his ear. “I can take care of myself,” he said.

There was a long silence. “You’d better.” There was a click as Patch hung up. Diego looked down at the phone for a minute before passing it back to Al, who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Can’t get enough of me, that one,” Diego said, slapping him on the back, before returning to the weights.

* * *

The police radio sat on the edge of boxing ring as Diego lugged the bucket of soapy water over from the cleaning cupboard. It crackled occasionally, but no reports came through of any crimes in progress. He plunged the mop into the bucket, wringing it out before slopping it onto the floor.

A loud bang came from somewhere in the back and Diego froze. He was the only one left here; Al had gone half an hour ago. Propping the mop against the ropes, he pulled a knife silently from the sheath on his thigh. His listened for a minute, before crossing the gym floor, heading to the rooms at the back.

No other noise came, but Diego conducted a quick search of the back rooms just to be certain. He wasn’t spooked – Patch hadn’t spooked him – he was just being cautious. It was his job to be cautious. He checked the showers, only to find them empty, and decided it must have been something falling from a shelf, or a dislodged weight that had finally succumbed to gravity.

He started to make his way back to the main gym when there came a load persistent banging on the front door. He ran up the stairs, headed across the gym and pressed himself into the corner next to the front door. The window was plastered with posters but Diego peered through a narrow gap between two.

There was movement outside, in the darkness. Diego narrowed his eyes, twirled his knife ready to throw should anyone try anything.

There was silence for a moment. No movement, nothing.

The door window shattered with a loud crash, and Diego flinched away, bringing up his hands to protect his eyes. Holding his breath, he looked across at what had broken it. It was a brick, stained with blood.

Ducking down, Diego peered over the broken edge of the window, immediately spotting two figures in black running away. Diego threw the knife, sending it flying through the broken window. There was a distant cry of pain.

He slammed open the door, second knife already in his hand, and saw something that made the knife fall from his suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering on the concrete.

Klaus lay on the doorstep of the gym, covered in blood.

Heart pounding up in his throat, Diego dropped to his knees beside Klaus, hands hovering shakily over him before he finally gripped Klaus’s shoulder and turned him over. Klaus came limply, his eyes closed, and Diego couldn’t tell beneath the bruising and blood on his face whether he was breathing or not.

“Klaus,” he whispered, shaking fingers reaching to his neck. He felt for a pulse, but his own heart was thudding so hard he felt like it was shaking his entire body. “Klaus, please. Please don’t be dead.”

He touched Klaus’s cheek, his shoulder, his exposed and bloody collarbone. He leaned down and pressed his ear to Klaus’s chest, trying to hear, over the sound of his own shaking breath, the sound of a heartbeat.

“Klaus,” he cried. “Wake up, please.”

Inspiration striking, he picked up the knife from where he dropped it, and held the flat of it an inch from Klaus’s mouth. It misted at the touch of Klaus’s breath, and Diego nearly cried with relief. With as much gentleness as he could, he got his arms underneath Klaus, and lifted him.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Just hold on.”

Despite Klaus’s skinniness, he was as tall as Diego, and carrying him bridal style was extremely awkward. But Diego couldn’t bring himself to throw Klaus over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, in case he jostled any injuries.

_Oh God, what had they done to him?_

He managed to get Klaus inside, and shut and lock the door somehow. The adrenaline was back, although now it was only serving to make him nauseous. He carried Klaus down the stairs and into the boiler room, where he laid Klaus out on the bed. He still hadn’t regained consciousness.

Diego ran his fingers through his own hair as he looked down at Klaus helplessly. He needed to wake him up, the longer he was unconscious the more at risk he would be. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, patted Klaus’s cheek.

“Klaus, wake up. Klaus!”

He looked down, for Klaus’s hand, and swallowed when he saw that both hands were swollen and red, indicating several broken fingers. A quick scan of the rest of Klaus’s body – what he could see beneath the fluffy black coat – told him that things didn’t get better. The bruises and abrasions Diego could see on the stretch of stomach exposed probably meant broken ribs, the collar of bruises around his neck suggested he’d been strangled, and his poor face was a Picasso painting of bruising and warped features.

Tears dripped unbidden down Diego’s face as he gave Klaus a gentle shake of the shoulders. Klaus gave a tiny groan and Diego gasped in relief. “Klaus. Wake up. Come on, speak to me, baby.”

“No,” Klaus whimpered, shaking his head before wincing at the movement.

“Klaus, it’s me, Diego.”

“D’ego?” Klaus murmured, eyelashes fluttering as he finally opened his eyes a crack. Diego leaned over him, watching as his pupils tried to focus.

“It’s me, Klaus. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Klaus moaned, forcing his eyes open wider. “Stay,” he whispered. “Don’t leave.”

Diego wished he could hold his hand. “I won’t, I promise.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, Klaus.”

* * *

Diego quickly realised his crippling guilt and apologies were not going to save Klaus’s life, so he pulled himself together and got to work. He pretended this wasn’t Klaus in need of his help, he emotionally distanced himself, catalogued Klaus’s injuries the way he would catalogue his own. He treated Klaus’s injuries the same way he treated himself, methodically and dispassionately.

He pressed frozen bags of peas to Klaus’s mangled hands to reduce the swelling, and bound his fingers in makeshift splints. He cut through Klaus’s clothing to expose the injuries on Klaus’s chest and stomach. He cleaned the cuts and abrasions and dabbed antiseptic on them. Judging by the way Klaus flinched and whimpered when Diego’s fingers brushed over them, Diego’s initial assessment of broken ribs was almost certainly correct.

He cleaned and treated every part of his brother’s poor, beaten body, finishing by cleaning the blood from Klaus’s hairline.

When Klaus fell asleep and Diego was confident he would wake up, he quietly left the boiler room. He searched the gym once more, ready to stab the first thing that moved. He patched the window up as best he could, not wanting to leave Klaus alone too long.

Before he returned to the boiler room, he took a detour to the toilets, and threw up everything in his stomach. He clung to the seat, sweating and shaking, tears streaming down his face.

When he could finally move, he stood up, washed his hands, and splashed water on his face. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. _This is your fault._

He returned to Klaus’s bedside, dragging the chair as close as possible to the bed, and watched the rise and fall of Klaus’s bandaged chest, until the sight of it lulled him into a kind of trance. He couldn’t look away, he couldn’t get some sleep, he could only watch, and let the guilt eat away at him.

* * *

Diego brought the mug of water over to Klaus, who was propped up in Diego’s bed against every pillow Diego could find. They had discovered Klaus could get a better grip of mugs with his palms than slippery glasses, and much as Klaus had professed to enjoy it at first, Diego could quickly tell he was humiliated when Diego had to hold the cup for him.

As usual, once he had handed the cup to Klaus, Diego retreated to the other side of the room, watching like a loyal guard dog. He watched Klaus take a sip and look across at Diego, before lowering the mug with a sigh.

“It’s not catching, you know,” he said irritably.

Diego jumped. “What?”

“You don’t need to stand so far away. You won’t catch anything.”

With a sheepish nod, Diego came a little closer, pulling the chair out. Before he could sit, Klaus patted the mattress next to him with the heel of his hand.

Diego looked at him, meeting his eyes questioningly. “Sit here,” Klaus said.

Diego sat. He turned to Klaus and took the mug from him when Klaus had finished, setting it on the floor by his feet. He was just sitting back up when Klaus spoke. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was.” Diego had never been more certain of anything in his entire life. His actions, his _arrogance_ , had led them to this point. He had thought he was untouchable, so they had hit him where it would hurt the most. He had been punished for thinking he had done good, the universe as swift to knock any sense of achievement out of him as Reginald had been.

He looked at Klaus and saw every one of his failures inscribed on Klaus’s bruised face. And Klaus, he was still looking at Diego like he had hung the sun, and Diego couldn’t stand it.

“No, it wasn’t. And if you argue with me again, I’m going to hurt us both by smacking you across the face.” Klaus looked serious, and there was no way Diego was going to risk him aggravating his injuries by arguing with him again.

He kept his mouth shut and ducked his head, looking broodingly down at his knees. Klaus groaned and Diego looked up sharply, wondering which of his injuries was bothering him. “You’re such a stupid, selfless idiot.”

Diego blinked, confused.

Klaus was shaking his head at him, looking exasperated. “You know why they got me, instead?”

Because Diego had left him unguarded. Because Klaus was vulnerable and Diego hadn’t even thought to protect him. Because Diego had been too busy laughing at the concept of someone trying to come after him to even consider that they might go after someone else.

Diego’s eyes were burning with tears and he furiously forced them back, swallowing the sob that was rising in his throat. “Because I failed,” he whispered, so his voice wouldn’t crack.

Klaus leaned forward, wincing at the movement, and it was enough to halt Diego’s spiralling thoughts. “Because they knew it would hurt you more than just going after you. You don’t care about your own safety but they could tell from witnessing one interaction that for some reason you care about mine.” Klaus smiled, and although his face was a mess, it was still so beautiful. “And how could I be mad at someone for caring about me so much?”

Diego shook his head slowly in denial, but Klaus gave him a hard look. Klaus was never this serious or certain about anything, it felt almost disrespectful to deny such a boldly proclaimed sentiment. Diego took a shaky breath, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. He turned back to Klaus, looking him up and down, checking the bandages for any bleeding. “I wish I could hold you.”

Klaus gave a shaky nod, and Diego could see the lines of tension and pain on his face. “I wish you could hold me, too.”

Diego met his eyes, then reached out, laying a gentle hand on Klaus’s forearm, a relatively unscathed part of him. His skin was warm and soft beneath his palm.

Klaus smiled that sweet smile of his, and Diego felt the warmth of his compassion. Klaus would never believe that Diego had done something wrong because he still believed In Diego. Not even a horrific beating from Wyatt’s thugs had knocked that belief out of him. Diego knew he should convince Klaus he was wrong about Diego, for his own safety. But at the same time, his heart still warmed at the knowledge that there was someone who thought he was a hero. And Diego would hold on to that feeling, hold on to Klaus, for as long as Klaus would let him.


End file.
